Moments from Times yet to Come
by Cecil Salvatore
Summary: A series of practice, probably unrelated, drabbles about my BnHA OTP's. Mostly TodoMomo, but may feature KiriBaku and TsuChako soon. Feedback greatly appreciated! (Not beta-ed) Sample:'He tried to keep himself from seeing her reflection, clear and precise, behind his eyelids in every blink, his heartbeat echoing steadily in his ears and his palms missing a touch they did not know.'


**Title: Aubade**

 **Ship: Todoroki Shouto x Yaoyorozu Momo ( _TodoMomo_ )**

 **~0~**

An orangey, autumnal glow washed the walls of her bedroom, casting her sleeping form in the deepest shades of apricot and coral. The dark, midnight threads of her fanned out hair shone in golden splendour, their tips and edges set ablaze in aureate daylight as the setting sun swept long, nondescript shadows of cloud piercing skyscrapers and mushroomed houses across her floor and cramped furniture. All around them, the quiet ticking of her bedside clock reverberated, keeping in time with her low, tranquil breaths, while lulling the rest of nature's symphony, from the humming of unseen life below, to the clapping wingbeats above, into a slow, soothing adagio.

Somewhere in the hazy, blurry recesses of his rippling thoughts, Todoroki Shouto knew he had crossed an invisible, unacknowledged line, this time. There were many prior occurrences where his conduct had teetered precariously over this proverbial border, seeming to lean too far out, before being pulled safely back to comprehensible stability through situational, explainable anchors. " _Reliable excuses_ ," his deadly poignant and tacitly honest subconscious would call them, whenever he allowed his mind too much time to wander.

Things like bending across a table, so close that his fringe brushed hers and their breaths mingled could be excused under the pretense of poring over their shared study material (which he had been); and grabbing her tapered fingers rather than her forearm felt instinctive during the heat and urgency of training (which it was); but this...? Knowing the numbing ache of his arm and chest beneath her weight, memorising the rhythmic thrum of her slender wrist against his calloused fingers, feeling the heat from her curled legs resonate through his blue veins, warming his sensitive skin, disregarding the the miniscule distance between them... This was all confusingly, terrifyingly new; a deep, uncharted sea whose waves had only lapped around their ankles all those times before, evoking feelings and emotions as buoyant as sea foam, yet as persistent as the tide. They bathed over him in the dead of the night, as he stared at his ceiling and tried to keep himself from seeing her reflection, clear and precise, behind his eyelids in every blink, his heartbeat echoing steadily in his ears and his palms missing a touch they did not know.

He couldn't tell you when exactly he had begun to take such acute notice of Yaoyorozu Momo, or when the idea of her thinking _anything_ of him had first made his heart crawl up his dry throat and his stomach, like a pink salmon, flop uncontrollably within him, so it was fortunate that, oftentimes, he wasn't concerned with the when but, rather, with the _why_.

Why did he know that she would unconsciously tilt her head and hunch her body forward whenever she found a topic difficult to grasp, only to straighten back up again, lips pulled into the smallest of satisfied smiles once it clicked? Why had he noticed that she had three distinct types of smiles for every person she met?

(A regular, polite one that never quite reached her eyes, one that was knowing and caring, softening her earthen orbs as her lips parted into a carefully controlled grin, and one which was his absolute favourite and her exact opposite: Lips lifted as high as they could go, crinkling the corners of her flashing, dancing irises, and showing off her even teeth as a soundless huff of laughter escaped them.)

... Why did the assurance that the final one only ever appeared for him make his chest suddenly feel too tight for his heart and ignite his constricted breathing?

He adjusted his position on the numerous cotton pillows propping his neck up, gaze locked on the top of Yaoyorozu's sleeping head so as to not wake her. A soft, cool sigh passed from his cracking lips, his sharpened attention focussed on keeping himself from accidentally impelling his Quirk and creating a thin layer of frazil on his warmed skin. Being unaccustomed to close physical affection made the task more of an ordeal than it would have otherwise been, but Todoroki was grateful for the distraction. It kept him from addressing the various other queries hovering at the back of his restless mind, in particular, one that he was prone to turning over and over, like a silver coin, until he had examined every perspective and argument to it, only to drop it, fruitlessly, back into whatever depth it had arisen from. It was a question that had been abrading his patience and psyche for several days, but was one that he had neither the perseverance nor insight to uncover the truth to.

What were they?

A trickle of meandering, serpentine steam arose from his neck, tempering the nauseating shudder that had coursed from its base to his hairline. Reluctantly, removing his right hand from over Momo's wrist, he watched impassively as his fingertips bloomed with ice of his own making, the light from the outside bounding over their lustrous edges and throwing iridescence across his arm. Another deep breath. Slow inhale... Languid exhale.

"Feeling warm?"

The entirety of his hand erupted into a brilliant display of crystal daggers and barbed needles, the phenomenon surging savagely down his arm until it came to an abrupt halt at his elbow. Shouto released a heaving gasp, bicoloured eyes risking a concerned glance downward. Extraordinarily composed, Yaoyorozu's dusky, half lidded hues moved inscrutably from his half frozen arm to meet his wide eyed gaze. She pulled herself up indolently to rest her chin on the back of her interlocked hands, an idle smile pulling at her scarlet tinged lips. Todoroki forgot how to breathe.

"You literally froze up." A soft tinkling laugh. A sparkle in her eyes, and a sanguine flush on her umbraged skin. His heart gave an involuntary lurch, and, just like that, he _knew._ Gradually, he felt himself simper back, his throat humming the acquiescence for the words his tongue could not form. The final rays of light seeped out the way they had entered, and, for a while, both teenagers remained still, lost in each other's presence, as their eyes traced outlines in the dark, and their hearts fluttered in ardent synchronicity.

 _He was in love with her._

Yaoyorozu was the first to move, of course, pushing her leaden body up to flick on her table lamp. She could have turned on her overhead lights, but, for reasons lost to him, decided against it. The bright bulb gave rise to quite an amusing aberration, however: Her hair was utter mess. Long locks were swept haphazardly across her back, shoulders, and face, while ebony wires probed out in no discernable pattern from the top of her head. There was something comically endearing about the it all, which made Todoroki smile secretively to himself despite the stabbing cramp in his left arm. She appeared to catch the subtle motion, however, as she leaned over to look into her vanity mirror, before decisively raking a comb through her thick mop.

"So," she said, adjusting her disarranged shirt, "Have you finished your homework?" He couldn't see her expression, but he could have sworn he had heard a vengefully triumphant lilt to her casual tone. Gathering the books he had tossed aside after several unsuccessful attempts to continue working with a dozing girl on his shoulder, he lied fluently, voice unwavering. "Almost. There was just one thing I wasn't too sure about, if you don't mind having a look."

Her tresses were back in their usual, attentively arrayed state when she turned, onyx strands spread around her in a fleeting halo, missable by a blink. "Let me see." He folded his legs in front of him, but rather than settling opposite him, like he'd expected, Momo dropped lightly to his side, her shoulder finding his with ease.. He sensed heat rush to his face, but was mercifully able to keep ice from forming on his cheeks: Water on her floor was one thing; soaking her bed, on the other hand, was something else completely. He didn't like to imagine the kind of explanation they'd have to give to Mr. Aizawa if that happened.

They sat in companionable silence as Todoroki scribbled down answers he already knew, having taken advantage of Momo's needless illustrations to observe, fascinated, the slight furrow in her brow as she concentrated, and the softness of her figure leant against his. The scratching of pencil on paper kept the air from thickening with the tension of clumsy feelings and unanswered questions, but they still murmured their insistent ubiety at the edges of his mind.

Was Yaoyorozu as unaffected by this as she seemed? Was it normal for her to nap with other guys on her bed? Was it something all friends did? Could she hear the hammering of his pulse through his skin? Did she know what it meant? Did she care-

Momo's head relaxed onto his shoulder, her corona pressing faintly against his exposed neck and smothering his rowdy thoughts. The clamour of his aching heart skipped and dropped to a treacherously hopeful, tentative hush. He didn't expect anything from her. He didn't have the right to.

"Shouto."

Her voice was muted and quivered with the fragile uncertainty he now knew they both felt. He had stopped breathing.

"Shouto... _I love you._ "

 _Oh._

 **~0~**

 **A/N:** Thank you for reading! This is my first attempt at a creative piece after one and a half years, so any feedback would be greatly appreciated. Feel free to flame, if needed.


End file.
